All Who Watch

A/N: JKR created the world and the characters, Emily Brontë wrote the poetry, and sshg316 made sure I didn't make too big a fool of myself playing with these toys. She even did a bit of Brit-picking in this one that saved me some grief, though I have ignored one suggestion because it amused me to keep one bit of silliness. Don't blame her for it, she did try!

CHAPTER TEN

"All Who Watch"

Hermione covered a sudden desire to weep with a gesture toward the tiny library of books stacked neatly across the window seat of Snape's cottage. "I did that once as an intellectual exercise, but I'd hate to have to do it for real."

"Do what?" he asked, irritated again by his curiosity about her meaning.

"Decide on the ten books I couldn't live without." She indicated the library. "More than a few here would've been on my list, too. I see you have been able to acquire rather more than ten, but it's still nowhere near enough, is it? But without magic, I suppose you were kind of limited."

She rose and went to her pack. "I brought you a few more. I thought you might appreciate some fresh material."

She started to reach inside, but he swiftly closed the gap between them, grasped her wrist, and bent her arm painfully behind her back. "Don't you dare," he whispered, his lips grazing her ear.

She gasped. "You're hurting me."

He eased his grip but did not release her. "This place has never known magic. That is part of its appeal."

"I wasn't... I wasn't going to use my wand," she stammered, trying to sound reassuring. "I didn't Reduce the books. That's why I could only bring a few."

He stared down at her, suddenly aware of her closeness, feeling her pulse beating steadily against his hand and inhaling her scent. He released her abruptly, pushing her away from him, and she staggered slightly as she regained her footing. She continued to look at him for a moment, and he noticed that her cheeks had reddened slightly. Then she shook her head and reached into her pack, removing three volumes. She placed them carefully on the window seat and backed away. He resisted the impulse to examine them and turned instead to stoke the fire.

"How the hell did you find me, by the way?" he asked roughly. "I covered my tracks rather better than you did when you went on the run at the end of things."

"Yes, you did," she replied quietly. "The thing is, I've spent a large part of these last years studying you. I think I know you fairly well by now."

He raised his head sharply and fixed her with a fierce, angry look. "You don't know me at all, Miss Granger," he hissed. "And you are an even bigger fool than I thought if you believe you do."

She met his gaze steadily. "You may be right," she said finally, "but I've come to bring you something. And you've been in hiding long enough."

"Oh, no, Miss Granger," he said, sneering. "Not nearly long enough." He turned on his heel and walked out the door.

Hermione sighed. She returned to her backpack. Most of it contained food, as she had no intention of either depleting his stores or of sharing whatever he might be living on. Months on the run from Voldemort had taught her a lot about being self-sufficient. This time, however, she would have to do it without her beaded bag and the help of magic. She hoped she remembered enough of her distant days as a Girl Guide to make a decent go of it. She pulled out an air mattress and began to inflate it.

~~~~~~~~~~

Hermione rose from the window seat where she had been reading and stretched a weary arm. The boat ride to the island had taken several hours, and it had required another two wandering the moor to find this desolate place. Snape had stalked out of the hut at least two hours since. Now it was growing dark. Had he decided already to find a new place of exile? Would he simply stay away until she gave up and went back without him?

She glanced at his tiny library. It was just a few books, but somehow she couldn't see him leaving them behind. His meager provisions, perhaps. His would-be rescuer, certainly. But not his books. He would be back. She had to believe that. She decided to make dinner.

~~~~~~~~~~

Night had begun to fall in earnest, and Snape had still not returned. Hermione stood uncertainly outside the door, her eyes adjusting to what little light the sliver of a moon and expanse of stars threw over the barren landscape. She stared up at the night sky and more stars than she had ever seen in her life and found the display both exhilarating and frightening. The wash of the Milky Way bathed a swath of glittering dust across the black velvet background. Hermione felt very small before all that heavenly indifference.

She sighed. She had not expected to be greeted with open arms. To be honest, she had anticipated that he would do his best to drive her off, maybe with physical force and certainly with words. She was surprised to have met so little resistance, and alarms began to go off in her head as she added up some of the relevant facts of his present existence. She found the resignation in his eyes troubling, and he really seemed to have abandoned magic entirely. Perhaps he was afraid that he could be traced that way, but surely an unregistered wand and some discreet charms would have relieved his exile at least a bit without too much risk.

She was also disturbed by the paltry library he had gathered here. As far as she had been able to tell, he had moved around for awhile after disappearing, but her diligent investigation had suggested that he had been settled here for some time. And as voracious a reader as Snape was, he should have found ways to collect more books.

Most unnerving of all was the fact that he seemed to have given up making potions entirely. The cottage held no evidence of even the most rudimentary efforts to mix ingredients of any kind, magical or even Muggle. He barely had a pot to his name, and she could find only two spoons in a drawer in the table. The single, ebony-handled knife beside them was large and quite sharp, but it would not have been suited to the task of preparing magical ingredients. Apparently, he had not concocted any preparations to ease his lonely existence or sought any activities to challenge his once ferocious intellectual curiosity, other than the occasional game of chess that had allowed her to find him.

She chewed her lower lip vigorously and attacked the problem. He seemed, yes, even more withdrawn and morose than she remembered, but he did not look to be wasting away. And he had not appeared overly desperate to get her out of his home. Add to that the fact that it was now pitch black, yet he was nowhere to be found. There's more to this than I'm seeing, she thought. She pulled another log from the lean-to next to the window, scrutinized the tiny outhouse that was the only other structure visible, and went back inside to feed the fire.

She was suddenly struck with a horrifying thought. What if, in his rage at her presumptuous arrival, he had injured himself? What if he had fallen somewhere beyond the range of her hearing and was now slowly bleeding to death? What if she had finally found him, only to ensure that, this time, he would really die?

She gathered her cloak back around her and twisted her scarf firmly about her head. Scrabbling in her pack, she found a small flashlight. She would not give him away by using her wand if she didn't have to, so she would be forced to search for him using primitive methods. She swung back out into the darkness and began to search for Severus Snape all over again.

~~~~~~~~~~

The island was bigger than it looked on maps, and it was not completely uninhabited. She assumed that he would not head for the dock from which she had come. She pulled out her tiny compass and decided to try the opposite direction first. After more than an hour, she had met some of the island's other residents, but the sleepy flock, bedded down for the night, resented her intrusion and was singularly unhelpful in aiding her search.

In the end, she very nearly missed it entirely, but her eyes had acclimated to the darkness so well that the tiniest sliver of candlelight escaping through a chink in the rock gave away his hiding place. She approached the cave cautiously, deciding she would simply assure herself that he was unhurt. She moved forward as stealthily as she was able. She had found the gap in the rock and caught the briefest glimpse of a much larger collection of books and a primitive workbench when she suddenly found her arms pinned behind her and a hand at her throat.

"I just had to make sure you hadn't broken your neck," she managed to gasp.

He hissed into her ear, sending gooseflesh down her arms. "I may have to break yours, Miss Granger," he breathed. "Let me rest in peace."

She resisted the impulse to struggle against his hold. "We'll talk about it when you're ready," she answered quietly. She waited for him to release her. After a moment, he did, and she immediately walked away from him into the dark, refusing to look back. She waited until she had come quite a distance to stop and check her compass to be sure she was headed back in the direction of the cottage.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was the first thing she saw when she awoke the next morning. Lying on her air mattress, stretching sleepily on the floor, she found herself staring up at a slender piece of wood, mounted over the doorway. It was his wand. It had become decor.

She was dressed, making a cup of tea, and slicing a loaf of bread with the huge kitchen knife when he finally returned. "It was Riley, wasn't it?" he said without preamble as he slammed back into the cottage. "The damn chess games."

She looked up from her preparations. "Yes."

"Betrayed by a Muggle," he murmured. "A Muggle in the middle of nowhere."

"He didn't betray you," she scolded him, setting the knife down. "He didn't have any idea who you were or that you didn't want to be found. He likes you, you know?" She grinned. "That's why I almost didn't think it was you at first."

Snape glared at her, but she refused to be cowed. "He enjoys your games," she continued serenely. "He wishes you'd get down to the dock more often. He's lonely, too."

"I am not lonely," he growled. "The solitude here is refreshing."

"Right," she replied. "There's so much to keep you occupied. Would you care for some tea?"

He glared at her.

"I'm afraid I couldn't find a second mug," she continued. "I hope you have something in your 'summer house.'"

He continued to glare. He had, in fact, always thought of the cave that way, but he was not about to admit it. Ever. He sat down heavily in the cottage's only chair. "You're really staying," he grumbled, "until the boat comes. You are a preposterous woman."

She smiled again. "And here I thought you'd still see me as your student," she said lightly, handing him the cup.

"It's been a very long time since you were in my classroom, Miss Granger," he replied stiffly.

"It's been a very long time since you've actually had a classroom," she answered. "From what I hear, the Potions curriculum has never been the same since you left."

He snorted and took a sip of tea. He grimaced at the flavor. She ignored his response.

"Now," she continued briskly, "I've brought my own food, which you're welcome to share." She set a plate with a generous slice of brown bread and honey in front of him. "I do not intend to be a burden."

He snorted again, louder, but said nothing.

"I've located the cistern," she told him, "and your wood supply appears to be adequate for now. Mr. Riley sent word that he has a few things for you waiting at the boat dock."

Snape raised one elegant eyebrow. "You didn't bring them with you?" he asked disdainfully. "I wasn't expecting anything too cumbersome this time. You could have saved me the trip."

Hermione looked at him serenely. "He wouldn't let me carry them. He said you owe him a game. You'll have to pay him yourself if you want your delivery." She smiled sweetly across the room at him and took a bite of bread. Snape scowled back at her.